


Proxy

by potentiality_26



Category: Wild Wild West (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, F/F, F/M, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-06 21:55:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13420410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potentiality_26/pseuds/potentiality_26
Summary: The girl was looking at him with a question in her eyes.Are you with me?they asked, amusement and curiosity andmorerunning through them.  He might not have read them so quickly if they weren't so like Artie’s eyes.After 'The Night of Pistoleros,' Jim makes do.





	Proxy

**Author's Note:**

> This episode aired last weekend on one of my local channels, and it gave me feelings again. Angsty feelings. The ladies I've labeled as original female characters here are technically the two women we see at the end of the episode, but since we know basically nothing about them, I've taken some license.

She had brown eyes.

He avoided those on nights like this- but she’d been eager and his request strange, so he hadn’t noticed until it was too late.  Artie was fine; everything was fine- so why was he still off his game?  Her eyes had a dark, melting quality he never went out of his way to find in a girl, and they were clever.  Too clever.  Like Artie’s eyes.

No- he didn’t notice until it was far, far too late.  Her lips were already wrapped around his cock when he looked down and she looked up. 

He could blame the sense of vertigo he felt when he looked into those eyes for what happened next- but if nothing else, James West took responsibility where it was due.  What happened next was his own damned fault.

The girl was looking at him with a question in her eyes.  _Are you with me?_ they asked, amusement and curiosity and _more_ running through them.  He might not have read them so quickly if they weren't so like Artie’s eyes.  It was no wonder she was curious.  He had barely looked at her when he met her; so long as she had a friend and they were both willing to brave the close quarters on the train for a night, it didn't much matter to him.  He had barely looked at her when she pulled down his trousers.

Artie was in bed with the brown-eyed girl’s friend.  There was a screen between his bed and Jim's, some space, but nowhere near enough for modesty.  If Jim looked into the mirror by the door, he could even catch a glimpse of them.  Not much of the girl, but he wasn’t interested in her.  He was interested in the back of Artie’s dark head- alive- and the curve of his broad shoulders- alive- and the sound of him panting and groaning softly- alive.  Jim wasn’t interested in anything else.

He probably wouldn't have taken his eyes off Artie at all, except for the girl at his feet and what she was doing with her finger. 

There was another question in her eyes too.  A request for permission that Jim knew he should deny as she lingered with her fingertip behind his balls, light against the sensitive skin of his opening.  Oh, he knew he should draw away- or at least shake his head.  He knew he should quit staring at Artie before he made himself any more obvious than he already was- or, if he couldn't do that, at least go back to watching him like he didn’t care if she saw. 

Jim knew he should do a lot of things.  But he’d thought Artie was _dead_.  Artie had shaken it off, but Jim hadn’t been able to.  And it wasn’t as though Artie would know- Jim could probably scream his partner’s name as he climaxed without Artie noticing a damned thing.

This was between him and a girl with too-clever brown eyes.

He didn’t nod to her, though.  He didn’t do anything, he just looked at her for a while as she looked back, and then she pushed her finger inside him.

It was cool and slick and he didn’t know what she had done to get it that way- obviously he was even more off his game than he’d realized.  She wiggled it gently, and when he pushed back against her she added another one.  Her fingers were slender but he still had to relax to take them in, and he chose not to relax too much.  Her touch ached, and he liked that feeling.  Maybe Artie wasn’t the only one he needed to be reminded was still alive tonight.

Behind him, Jim heard the bed creak, heard skin slapping against skin.  Artie’s moans deepened.  He was getting close.

The girl scissored her fingers and then added a third, brushing against the place inside Jim that made him see stars.  When his vision cleared, he returned it to the mirror and discovered that the thrusting of the girl's fingers inside him mirrored Artie's on the bed with stunning precision.  Her mouth closed around him like hot silk, but that wasn’t the feeling he was focused on- and she knew it.

He watched Artie and refused to imagine it was him underneath his partner.  He refused to imagine something thicker, better, than a too-clever girl’s fingers had him splayed open.  He refused to do anything but take in the sensations: the heat of her mouth, the pressure of her fingers, the sound of Artie’s moans. 

A part of him hoped that it would be the sound of his partner’s orgasm that brought him over the edge, but he came sooner than that.  He bit his lip until it bled.

She swallowed his seed, then pulled off and withdrew her hand carefully, wiping the other over her mouth.  He reached down, pulling her up to his level and working a hand under her skirt.  When she nodded to him, he pressed it between her legs.  Through her underclothing, he could feel that she was wet.  He hadn’t really expected that; he’d been far from attentive.  But from the way her head rolled back, eyelids closing over those brown eyes, she was even fairly close.

Jim paused, fingers against her sex but not putting any real pressure.  He waited until her eyes opened and met his again.  They did, but first they ever-so-briefly darted over his shoulder.

And, Jim was willing to wager, over Artie’s shoulder as well.

That was another thing Jim had seen in her eyes.  Sympathy, and- more than that- empathy.  Kinship.  Understanding.

He would have been astonished that such a coincidence was even possible, that such misfortune could befall two separate people from two separate parts of the country and draw them together like this- except that he felt as though he’d run out of such feelings.  All he had left was the understanding he prayed she saw reflected back in his eyes.

Carefully, he guided her to the door frame.  It gave him a point to brace her against, and her- hopefully- a passable view of her friend.

Her friend made the occasional breathless noise- whatever Artie was doing, and Jim didn't let himself wonder what it was, he was good at it- that Jim hadn’t let himself hear before.  Now he didn’t just hear it- he felt it shudder through the girl his arms and he saw it in the sparks of sorrow and want spinning across her face.

It didn’t take long.  A little rubbing, a little pressure, nothing sophisticated, and her hips jerked against him.  He felt more slickness spreading against his hand.  Maybe, like him, she wasn’t used to even this much.

She leaned against him for a second, still but for a few gasps and a little trembling.

Artie probably wouldn’t be interested in dinner for a while.  Jim thought he and this girl might head back to the parlor and have that stew.  They might even pretend that he’d look her up if he came back this way.  They might even pretend that she would want him to.

For the moment, though, Jim just rested his forehead against hers.  He wondered if he even had the right eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Come see me on [tumblr](http://potentiality-26.tumblr.com/).


End file.
